Destiny, Compromised
by Kay R. Greyhelm
Summary: Everyone knows that Darien and Serena are going to end up ruling Crystal Tokyo, happily married with a beautiful daughter. Nothing can stand in the way of Fate... except our own choices. And one choice can destroy everything.
1. Chapter 1

**Destiny, Compromised**

Autumn appeared to have descended upon Tokyo very early that year. Like the snow in midwinter, gold and ruby red leaves caught by the breeze swirled in violent flurries. They collected in gigantic piles on the sidewalk and in the street, but when the sun peeked out from the dull grey clouds, they seemed to catch fire and give the illusion of treasures spilled out of a king's storeroom. Ami and Serena ambled down the sidewalk at an identical pace, their hands shoved in their pockets, both of them kicking absently at stray leaves that fell in their path. It had been a while since either of them had spoken, but the silence was far from awkward; in fact, it was edifying. However, Ami had no qualms about interrupting it.

"I must say, I am truly surprised that you aren't more broken up about him leaving," she murmured unemotionally, trademark of her manner of speaking. Her lips remained parted, as though she would continue, but thought better of it, and she closed her mouth so quickly that her teeth clicked when they knocked against each other. Serena stopped suddenly as a flaming orange leaf barely evaded the toe of her boot. She tracked it down and squashed it, and it made a sickly crunch as its pieces scattered. Ami halted to stand beside her friend and await a response.

"After everything Darien and I have been through, a five-thousand mile separation isn't going to be much of a challenge. And not to mention… we all have seen the future. Darien and I know we are going to end up together… so I figure, why worry about it?" Her explanation was punctuated by a forlorn sigh. The distance would be much harder on her than she was ever willing to admit. In this one way had Serena's personality most dramatically transformed: she struggled to internalize her emotions to keep them from weighing on her friends. At these attempts she was rarely successful, but at least now her wailing spells were few and far between and were incited by semi-reasonable circumstances. Ami could hardly believe how much the young woman had matured. "Besides…" Serena's face brightened slightly as one half of her mouth tilted upward in a lopsided smile. "I am glad there will be someone I trust to look out for you."

Ami blushed a little. It seemed everyone in the group was pleased that Darien and Ami would be attending the same medical school that fall: Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. The United States—a country that now seemed like it was a galaxy away. Ami had studied for two years at the local university and interned at a local hospital—she was still technically pre-med, but all of her test scores and her job performance were solid evidence that she would gain accelerated entrance into the Pediatrics program at Johns Hopkins. It had never bothered her that she would be going by herself… what other choice did she have? Forfeiting her dream to become a pediatrician just because she was shy? No. Her plan was cemented in her mind. So, when Darien approached Ami about attending Johns Hopkins letting her know he was interested in attending the same school—rather than Harvard University, as he had originally intended—she was floored, and secretly more than a little relieved. The entire group had rejoiced. Now those left in Japan wouldn't have to worry about either of them—they would look out for each other. Their going away party had been one of raucous rejoicing. Only Serena cried, but no one blamed her for it. Darien was quiet, but he smiled continually. Ami soughed at the memory. It was only a few days ago, but all time after that was spent packing and making final preparations, so that it seemed years ago.

"It's just that…" A boulder of guilt was heaved onto her chest so that her breath left her in a short gasp. "Well… it's just that you will be apart for so long. Don't you worry at all?" Serena's head whipped around so that she clearly faced Ami, her wrist-thick braid slapping against her own cheek.

"What do you mean?" Her voice sounded truly bewildered, but it grated against suspicion.

Ami stared at Serena's golden, Rapunzel-esque braid draped over her shoulder. It was funny that she had changed her hairstyle—no longer wore it in those traditional dumplings perched atop her scalp. So many things had changed. Ami's heart felt so heavy inside of her already-oppressed chest.

"All I meant was…" She paused; her lips twitched. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Darien loves me," Serena declared fiercely, kicking at a leaf that escaped. She fumed and stomped on it.

"I know," Ami nodded. Serena's inhalations were passing through her nose now in little sniffles. The guilt stone pressed down harder on Ami. They continued shuffling along the sidewalk. They had no particular destination; Ami simply wanted to wander the neighborhood as often as possible before her departure. She had not the faintest idea when she could return. The renewed silence was growing heavy, like a rapidly ripening fruit that had no choice but to fall on someone's head. And it did just that when Serena next opened her mouth.

"Ami, he won't have sex with me."

Ami felt rapid-fire spreading from the base of her collarbone up along her neck all the way to her ears. She was blushing so deeply and feeling so warm, she thought she must have been tackled by a fast-acting fever. Bringing her hand up to her mouth, she coughed nervously into it. What was she supposed to say to something like that? The walking did not cease. They turned a corner. "I thought you two were… saving yourselves?" With a thoroughly ponderous expression on her face, Serena folded her arms over her torso.

"Well, we were. I mean… I don't know. Darien is my true love, so it didn't matter to me one way or the other. And he never said anything about it either. I was in his bathroom one day, though… and... I found a box of condoms. It was unopened, and I asked him about it. He said he had them there for us… 'just in case.' So we started to get more serious, but then… he couldn't do it. He wouldn't." Her voice cracked, and she closed her mouth, shutting her eyes tightly for a moment. Ami could do nothing but stare. For a minute she chewed her tongue and studied her shoelaces as they flounced up and down with her walking.

"Maybe it just didn't feel right," she offered at last, hoping that was what Serena wanted to hear. Serena matched her fingertips up and examined the dry patches of skin on her knuckles before retorting,

"It's happened six times."

_That_ was substantially different.

"And." Serena took an enormous breath and held it for a moment, as though she were preparing herself to dive into a deep, freezing pool and she had no idea when she would again break its surface. Ami blinked profusely. "He said that… maybe… well, he said that it would be good for us to see other people since he was going to be away." It was Ami's turn to come to an abrupt halt.

"There's got to be a logical explanation to all this. I mean, Darien _is _going to be away for an awfully long time. He's going to be a trauma surgeon, after all. And that is going to take a lot of work… perhaps he just doesn't want you to be lonely while he's away. With his studies, he isn't going to have much time for distractions…" Ami reasoned.

"A trauma surgeon?" Serena raised her eyebrows.

"Yes." Ami said nothing more, but her great blue eyes asked the question, _Didn't you know? _Serena's shrug looked more like a luxuriant stretch.

"He never told me. I thought he was just studying to be a doctor…" Their bodies were angled toward each other now. Ami's fingers tangled through her lengthening blue-black hair that reached just past the collar of her grey jacket. Serena's chin jutted downward, hidden on either side by her own collar—this was a clear sign that she was feeling dejected. "Ami, do you suppose that's how he views me? …As a distraction…?" The dark-haired girl felt her palm growing moist. This sort of conversation always made her so uncomfortable. It had always been her desire to please people, but at the same time, how could she be anything but honest with her truest friend?

"I don't know, Serena. But I'm sure he's just doing what he thinks is best for you."

"Maybe." A leaf floated down just above Serena's head, and Serena snatched it out of the air and crunched it in her hand.

"Hey." Ami extended her hand and laid it lightly upon the unoccupied shoulder. Serena glanced up through her moistened eyelashes. "I'll race you to the arcade!" Ami suddenly exclaimed, tearing her hand away and beginning to sprint down the sidewalk.


	2. Chapter 2

First, let me just say how pleased I am to have already received reviews. And second, let me address some questions/concerns that I have taken note of in those reviews. "Darien & Amy. Is that the pairing of this story?" Not exactly. In fact, the focus of this story isn't going to be certain pairings—the main idea of the story is simply that you can't leave everything to Fate. So, what happens in this story isn't necessarily going to revolve around a particular couple.

"…the fic is all center justified which makes it very hard to read." I actually did that on purpose. I like centering things—it makes it easier for me to read for some reason. I'm not sure if I plan on changing that. If it gives everyone a hard time, then perhaps I will. But somehow, I personally find it easier to read this way, and it looks better.

"…I hope you spend time going over the reason why and keep the characters in character." I absolutely intend to. However, keep in mind two things: with the passing of time, people change, and Darien has never had a thoroughly developed personality. We know he is intelligent, thoughtful, deeply caring, averse to public displays of affection (I watched the Sailormoon R movie last night…), and somewhat quiet. If we look at the first season, he also had a tendency to tease mercilessly and be somewhat caustic. There is a lot we don't know. I will definitely be taking some artistic license in this fic—feel free to complain, all of my readers, but I won't necessarily make changes as a result.

I realized after I submitted Chapter I last night that I had forgotten to include a standard disclaimer. So it reads thus: you know the drill. I'm not making any money from this, so why worry?

A head's up about this chapter… it's part of the story but it isn't integral to the plot. It was mostly just for fun and to initiate a bit of a bond where there wasn't one before… as well as to explain Ami's state of mind at this point in her life.

**Destiny, Compromised**

**Chapter II**

It was six in the a.m. Saturday morning: departure date. Ami's alarm clock was buzzing ferociously, its brilliant green numbers flashing to indicate her wake up call had arrived; her eyelids lifted. A lone sunbeam snaked its way through her blinds and pointed its accusatory finger at the middle of her forehead, directly where the symbol of Mercury was hidden. Slowly Ami extended her hand to shut off the alarm. A burning sensation conquered her eyes so she was forced to shut them again. She swung her body upright and toed around for her slippers. When her feet had found their way into them, she hunched over, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, supporting her elbows on her knees. After a few seconds, a flick of her wrist switched the alarm setting to the radio._ "…We were born in the same country. Miracle RomancE. I believe in it…"_ And she shut it off again more violently. It would be better to go without the radio this morning. The pain in her eyes was beginning to diminish, so she released her other hand and blinked. Her legs seemed to be swinging back and forth of their own volition, and she kicked at the front of one of her suitcases. It registered a dry thud, so Ami did something quite out of character. She popped up from her sitting position and kicked at it again, stubbing her toe. That didn't produce the desired effect either. So she bent down and heaved it onto its side. Then she kicked it with the other foot. It occurred to her that it might be cathartic to scream at the top of her lungs, but she decided against it because her mother had only just gotten off of the night shift at the hospital two hours ago. Her consideration outweighed her sudden malice. When she had initially planned to leave for Germany to study four years ago, she had surely felt sad—terribly sad, but it was not like this. What she felt now was a raging depression, something that went so far beyond sad as to make her angry enough to… to what? She wasn't sure. With her hands balled into fists resting on her hips, she gazed about the room. She had lived in this district for five years now. This had been her room for the last five years. And for all she knew, she might never see it again. But in any case, Andrew would be there in an hour, so she had to get moving.

Stepping into the bathroom, she fumbled for the light switch. She stooped over the sink and splashed cold water onto her face, and when she straightened, she noticed a note taped to the mirror. "_Ami—Safe journey. Call me and leave a message when you land in California. I love you. Mom"_ She ripped it off and the adhesive left an ugly residue. Her mother was _so_ busy, she couldn't see her only daughter off at the airport! She was _so_ busy, she wouldn't even be able to answer the phone when Ami called! She was tempted to ask Darien to call for her when they landed. "I'm sorry, Ms. Mizuno, there's been an accident. We were driving to the hotel, and we were in a collision. Ami didn't make it." How long would it take for her mother to respond to such a message? What was the use of even calling? The note crumpled in her hands as if it were ashamed of itself; Ami had not willed her fingers to move. Then Ami remembered something: she loved her mother. Very much. She glared at the wad in her hand as if the paper were the source of all her discomfiture. Without hesitation, she stalked back into her bedroom and smoothed the note out again. Carefully she folded it into quarters and tucked it into a front pouch on her carry-on bag. Then she whirled around and returned to the bathroom for a quick shower.

By six-forty-three, she was sitting at her vanity, combing out her blue-black hair. It was still a little damp, but she had done what she could to towel-dry it. Now that it was growing out so rapidly, she had received many compliments on the way it just framed her face. Ami had never followed any sort of trends; she had kept her hair short because it was easy to take care of, and less time in the morning getting ready meant more time for studying at school, where she belonged. But this year, she had felt within herself a sudden pull to be more feminine—like her friends. Sometimes she experimented with makeup, too. All these things were subtle proof that things were changing—that all of them were changing. Her blinds tilted to reveal the gathering sunlight, leaving a harsh glare on her mirror. It didn't matter, really. She didn't much want to look at herself anyway. She shoved hard at the lower portion of the mirror, and it angled upward, reflecting its glare onto the ceiling. Then she pushed off the edge of the vanity, and her chair went sliding backward. With the comb still in one hand, she shuffled over to her nightstand and clutched the alarm clock. Six-forty-five. She rattled the clock in her hand as if it was a little creature—a kitten she was frustrated with and was chiding. After unzipping the front pouch of her largest suitcase, she dumped both the comb and the clock unceremoniously inside and closed it up behind them. Within a few minutes, she had dragged all of her luggage into the entryway so she would be ready the instant that Andrew knocked on the door to retrieve her. Mentally she visualized all that was crammed into her baggage. Everything that was not an absolute necessity was staying here in Tokyo. Anything she could not fit but still needed would be shipped later… when her mother found the time. Trying to fend off these dark, bitter feelings, Ami blew out a huge sigh that ruffled the hair that hung unkempt over her forehead.

She settled onto the floor, removed her slippers, stuffed them into her carry-on bag, and pulled over her shoes from beside the front door. After lacing them up, she pushed herself back to a standing position and slung on her grey coat. Although she was expecting it, the knock at the door still made her jump, her eyes bulge slightly. At the peephole, she saw Andrew smiling good-naturedly at nothing in particular, his blond hair disheveled and his khaki pants unironed. It was early, after all. Ami couldn't blame him. And it had been so kind of him to offer to drive both her _and _Darien to the airport, even though he didn't know _her_ very well. The others were going to meet them there. Hopefully Serena's perpetually awful sleeping habits wouldn't keep the rest of them from arriving on time. At least one thing had not changed. Ami drove her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from smiling. She grabbed her copy of the key, matched it with the lock, and twisted it until the bolt slid free. When she wrenched open the door, Andrew immediately met her eyes and grinned. "I watched you kick Serena's ass at the new Sailor V video game the other day." Ami's smile escaped. Sure, it was crass language, but it was nice to be recognized for something so insignificant.

"Andrew, you have worked at that arcade for as long as I have known you—are you ever going to buckle down and get a _real _job?" she asked without any contempt or rancor in her voice. She was only wondering.

"Oh, no way!" he chuckled. "I intend to manage that place one day." Down the walk, in the street, Ami could hear the car door slam. Darien removed his sunglasses as he strolled up the pathway. His curt nod served as a greeting; he had only come to help load her luggage into Andrew's spacious trunk. With a barely audible sigh, Ami bent down to grab her carry on bag and then straightened as she slung it over her shoulder. The boys carted off her suitcases while she locked the front door behind herself. Darien was slamming the door to the trunk while Andrew was striding toward the driver's side door. As Darien hurried to the passenger's door, his fingers intentionally brushed over Ami's arm. He glanced over his shoulder once he stood in front of her and smiled encouragingly. Likely, it was written all over her face just how she felt. The click of all the car's locks indicated they could enter, so the three of them clambered in simultaneously. No one made a sound as they pulled away from the curb and left Ami's house behind. For the time they spent cruising the inner-city streets, not a word. But as soon as they shifted onto the freeway, Darien twisted in his seat.

"Hey, Ami." His face was bright and his smile genuine. "Do you like American music?"

Ami's lips twitched a little. She was more a fan of J-pop, but she knew that she was outnumbered and protesting as Darien perused Andrew's CD case would do her no good. So she shrugged and offered a nondescript smile. Without paying much attention, Darien lifted what almost any educated American would instantly recognize as _Abbey Road _out of its encasement and popped it into Andrew's dash CD player. It swallowed it greedily, but Darien changed the track before it had time to begin playing. Sound erupted from every speaker in Andrew's car, startling Ami to boot. "Oh! Darling, please believe me…" Darien was still facing her, twisted in his seatbelt. He was lip-synching. "Oh, darlin', if you leave me… I'll never make it alone…!" This was just too funny. Clapping her hand over her mouth, Ami struggled to suppress her laughter. "When you told me… you didn't need me anymore; well, you know, I nearly broke down and cried…" As Darien's lips formed the words, his fist rose into the air with conviction. Andrew was singing as well, but his accent when it came to English wasn't very good, so Ami's face was turning crimson from her attempts to hold in her hysterics. After three minutes and twenty-six seconds of the nonsense, she was slumped over, tears of hilarity beading behind her eyelids.

"Stop! Stop!" she begged between breathless giggles. Darien had his shades back on by now, and he pushed them to the end of his nose and ogled at Ami over their rims.

"Believe me, darlin'," he schmoozed in English. Ami was grinning now as she massaged the stitch in her side.

"Switch it back to Number One," urged Andrew, jerking his head toward the CD player. Darien reached blindly over and puzzled with the buttons for a moment; he refused to turn back around. After a moment, "Come Together," was vibrating the speakers.

"Please tell me you like the Beatles, Ami," Darien prodded, raising his eyebrows, his glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose so she could see straight into his dark blue eyes.

"I… I don't know…" she mumbled, re-focusing her gaze on the speaker just beside her foot.

"What!" Andrew yelled. "No. No way. Get out of my car."

Ami's eyes grew large as blooming lilies. Andrew's hands tensed on the steering wheel. Traffic was light for the hour, but it was still terribly unexpected when his little white Suzuki began weaving through the lanes and drifting within them. "Andrew…" Her voice was shaky. "What are you doing?"

"Say you like the Beatles, Ami." His voice was low. When she tilted her head back, she had a clear view of his face in the rear-view mirror.

"What?"

She was scrutinizing him in the mirror when he did something unbelievable: he clamped his eyes shut. And began driving and weaving more earnestly than before.

"Andrew!"

It was Darien's turn. "Say you like the Beatles."

"Andrew, this is crazy! You're going to get us killed!" she huffed, her breath feeling tight in her chest as though someone were depriving her of oxygen. Andrew swerved right. Granted, there were no cars there, but Ami screamed.

Darien repeated, "Say you like the Beatles!"

"I like the Beatles!" she echoed. One of Andrew's pale green eyes eased open. And then he grabbed the wheel tighter and began to accelerate, drifting left.

"Say it again, Ami!" demanded Darien.

"I LOVE THE BEATLES!" she shrieked, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she clutched her seat.

Andrew took his foot off the gas pedal and opened both eyes. His hands relaxed at the wheel. "Converted another one." He offered Darien his palm and they high-fived. "It will be Led Zeppelin next." Ami measured her own pulse. It seemed to have skyrocketed. The man sitting directly in front of her was rapidly approaching twenty-five years old… but this behavior was that of a seventeen-year-old. In the course of the drive, her shoulders had tensed, and they suddenly drooped. Darien craned his neck to get a good look at Ami. And they both burst out laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Destiny Compromised, Chapter III**

Wow, everyone. It has been about two years since I last updated, but I have been surprised and pleased by the continuing positive responses I have received. I've had this story at the back of my mind for some time, but I am trying to focus on some original fiction (as an English major, that's usually a bit better for you, academically speaking). But here we go—let me try again.

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I do not own the rights to Sailor Moon, _the Count of Monte Cristo_, Colgate or Listerine, or any songs I may happen to mention in this chapter. Heck, I don't own the rights to much of anything except my original work, which is somewhat debatable because most of it isn't copyrighted. Wow, no rights = failure at life. Haha.

The drive to the airport was intermingled with both raucous singing and stultifying silences. By the time Andrew had found a parking space, all three of them remembered just how early it actually was. Fatigue weighted every muscle Ami could feel, and suddenly, she couldn't wait to settle into a padded window seat for the long flight to California, despite her aversion to saying an indefinite goodbye.

As was expected by all, Serena cried. She cried very, very much. It was not loud nor was it whiney; she just could not stop. She cried until she was choking for breath, and Darien stood holding her in stalwart silence until the final boarding call. When there was not a second longer to spare, he planted a hard kiss on her lips in front of everyone and clutched her tight before rushing off. Ami hurriedly finished her final round of hugs to all and then trailed just behind Darien toward the open door which would carry them to their plane. One of the flight attendants ushered them to their seats, muttering all the while about how she hated it when people waited until the very last second to board.

Ami, after squeezing past a very burly man seated on the aisle of their row, settled into the chair at the window, just as she had imagined. After Darien had jammed his carry-on bag into an overhead compartment, he joined her.

"I hate sitting in the middle," he grumbled as he slipped his laptop case beneath the seat in front of him.

Turning to look at him quizzically, she replied, "You paid for the tickets! Why didn't you choose the window seat?"

With a lopsided smile, he said quietly, "I was trying to be a gentleman."

Ami's features softened. "Oh. Well, thank you."

After shaking his head, Darien nudged her with his elbow and sat back to buckle his seatbelt.

As far as international flights go, this one was terribly uneventful. No pregnant women went into labor; they didn't encounter a typhoon; no married couple got into an explosive quarrel; no one even threw up. There was, however, an in-flight movie. Ami paid it little attention; she was relishing the cool glass of the window against her skin as she dozed on-and-off. Darien, however, seemed to find it most engaging. There came a line in the film that caught his attention.

"Take the money, take the woman, and _live your life_."

Darien felt the force of it enough to repeat it. Groggily Ami turned her head and blinked at him blearily.

"What was that?" she asked.

"The movie." He removed his earphones and jerked his head toward the little screen.

"Mmmkay," she murmured as she turned her head back toward the window.

To her surprise, she felt his fingers brushing through the hair that fell to the nape of her neck. Her head turned fractionally—just enough for her to see him out of the corner of her right eye. Even after she had done so, he continued to toy with the curling blue-black strands.

"I like that you are growing out your hair. It suits you," he commented.

Awkwardly she thanked him but could not stop the instinctive reaction to pull away. He replaced his hand in his lap and jammed the earphones back into his ears, keeping them there for the remainder of the film.

The Los Angeles airport was a zoo. When Darien and Ami had initially made plans for the trip, they had hoped to split up—Ami would retrieve the luggage while Darien handled the rental car. Once they arrived, however, they realized this was a very bad idea indeed. There was too much chance for them to become lost in the overcrowded maze that is LAX. So together they waited at Carousel 51 for their checked baggage and together they traipsed to the counter to receive their rental. Well, in truth, Darien was the one to approach the counter while Ami sat on her suitcase and guarded all of their luggage some ten feet away.

Though she had been napping on and off for much of the flight, she still felt mildly brain-dead. It was a combination of factors, she knew it logically—being far from home without her friends, not having had the opportunity to say goodbye to her mother, the uncertainty of everything that lie ahead… It was just—everything. Everything. There was too much for her mind to process.

Darien's palm waved in front of her zoned-out eyes. "Ami?"

Her head jerked as she leaped out of her own jumbled, half-formed thoughts. Then she looked up into his face from her position on her suitcase.

"What did you get us?" she asked as she began to scramble up to her feet.

Throwing the singular key up and down a few times, he answered, "Just a standard four-door. But I made sure it was Japanese." He grinned.

Laughing, she slung her carry-on bag and her purse over her shoulder and then released the handle on her suitcase and began toting it behind her as she headed out the door toward the parking lot. Darien followed suit. When they were shown their car, Ami strolled over to the driver's side door. He stopped beside her and gave her a puzzled look, his eyebrows arched. She extended her hand and uncurled her fingers, her palm up.

"Give me the keys. I'm driving."

Shrugging, he dropped the key into her palm and proceeded to load their baggage into the backseat. When he was finished, he slid into the passenger's side and buckled his seatbelt. After he was situated, he pointed to the small screen suctioned to the windshield.

"See? I got us a GPS. That way we won't get lost going to the hotel—or to Disneyland tomorrow."

Ami nodded absently as she adjusted the sedan's mirrors. Seeing she was uninterested, he took it upon himself to program their hotel's address, taken from a folded post-it note in his pocket, into the navigating system. They pulled out of the parking structure, and once the GPS had collected a satellite signal, Ami followed its directions without comment. She could feel Darien's probing gaze trying to assess her mood, so she actively worked to keep her expression blank, or at least tried to keep it from revealing anything other than concentration on the road ahead of her.

A few minutes of this silent competition passed, but Darien at last forfeited. He turned his attention to the darkened urban scenery. It was about four in the morning in California; nothing was stirring except the occasional commuter passing on the opposite side of the freeway. In all reality, the drive to their hotel in Garden Grove only lasted around fifty minutes, but to Ami, it seemed about as long as their ten-hour flight. She craved solitude—not just quiet broken up by occasional electronic directions, but aloneness.

Darien pointed at the sign for their hotel, eager for a valid excuse to break the yawning silence. "There it is! Turn right in there!" He gestured at the driveway.

Although there were no cars anywhere near them, Ami turned on her blinker and made a smooth turn into the drive, pulling up in front of its lobby doors.

"I'll check us in and get our keys," he said matter-of-factly, hopping out of the car almost immediately. After the hotel's automatic doors slid shut behind him, Ami gripped the steering wheel hard and leaned forward, resting her forehead on the back of her hands.

"Someone kill me," she said hoarsely to herself.

When Darien reopened the passenger's side door, she was still hunched over.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his expression etched with concern.

Ignoring the question, she asked him which side of the hotel they were on. He sat down in his seat and shut the car door. His anxious expression grew the more intense.

"I'm fine, all right? Just tell me where to park," she said snappishly.

*

I hope you have all enjoyed this installment of Destiny, Compromised. I hope to attract some interest of new fans and reignite that of my old ones! Sorry, guys, about the two year hiatus. Let's see if we can get this rolling again!

Don't forget to leave me some reviews!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Why do we have to do this on a fanfiction site again? Oh well. You know I don't own Sailor Moon. I don't own much of anything, actually, except this really cool desk from IKEA. It's brand new.

_**Destiny, Compromised**_

Chapter 4, after two years… wooow.

The hotel room was nice. Ami focused on the nice things, the quaint little things that make a hotel room _nice_. She never understood the distinctions between three-star or four-star, or whatever. It was just nice or not nice. And this one was nice.

She carted her luggage forward to make room for Darien to file in behind her. The door swung to once he was inside, and they both shuffled tiredly into the center of the room, between the two full-sized beds.

"Which do you want?" Darien asked, his gaze sliding back and forth between the two beds, seeing if there appeared to be any great advantage to either one.

Without verbally answering, Ami disentangled herself from both her purse and her carry-on bag and flung them onto the bed nearer to the window.

"That answers that question," he said under his breath as he approached the other bed to arrange his belongings.

From her small carry-on tote, Ami extracted her electric toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste and headed for the bathroom. A physical sense of relief tingled inside of her as she brushed her teeth thoroughly. With the massaging motions of the toothbrush, she could almost feel about thirteen hours' worth of plaque coming loose. After she spat and rinsed, she uttered a loud, "Ah!" from the simplistic happiness. After she had finished, she unwrapped the hotel's complimentary face bar and took a moment to wash up. She strolled out of the bathroom, still rubbing her face dry with a white washcloth.

When she lowered it, she stood at the edge of the hallway and gaped at what she saw. Darien was seated at the edge of his designated bed, his shirt stripped off and his pants unbuttoned, though still on. The hotel's corded telephone was perched on his shoulder, with its cradle resting in his lap, and he was squinting at a small plastic card—like a credit card. No, she realized—it was a calling card. For some reason, her heart had leaped into her throat. She had never seen Darien so _exposed_. From her position at the end of the short hall, she had a view of both Darien's back and part of his exposed chest. The sinews of both back and front were so thick; they appeared hard to the touch. On his shoulder blade was a round, whitish scar which stood out against his otherwise tanned skin.

Catching her breath, she tore her gaze away from him and made every effort to seem nonchalant as she headed back toward her bed. Darien glanced up from his calling card.

"Are you going to bed?" he asked.

Her back was turned to him as she pretended to rummage through her little tote.

"Um." She swallowed. "No, actually. I was planning on going out for a little while. You?"

"Yeah," he answered with a little sigh. "I'm bushed. I was just going to call Serena to let her know we made it and then hit the sack."

She had run out of things to rummage through, so she just stood there with her back turned to him, pushing back her cuticles with her fingernails. What he had said about calling Serena reminded Ami of her mother's note, urging her to call when they had landed in California.

"Do you mind if I take the car, then?" she checked as a courtesy.

He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal, but she didn't see. "Sure, go right ahead," he said for good measure.

"Thanks."

Now she was pretending to fumble around in her purse. She hoped he would think she was searching for the car key, but in reality, it was in the left pocket of her jeans. Finally, she gathered herself and produced the key from her pocket, turning so that he wouldn't see from where it came. When she turned herself toward the door, it was inevitable to at least glimpse him in his half-naked state. A blush rose from the base of her neck, and she quickened her pace. The last thing she saw was his little wave before he began dialing as his calling card instructed.

While in the elevator, Ami tapped her foot nervously. Nervous about what, she couldn't say. Once the doors opened, she bolted for the car. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon; the parking lot was not as pitch black as it had been when they first arrived for check-in. She located the car in its corner stall, unlocked it with the key rather than the clicker, and slid into the driver's seat. From within her purse, she retrieved her mobile phone. Her phone had greater international capabilities than Darien's, plus Ami's mother was footing the bill while Darien was responsible for his own, so it was not an issue to sit in a parking lot in California and make a call to that same mother who was over five-thousand miles away.

Ami dialed the international code slowly, wondering what she would say to the voicemail. Smoothing her hair back, she at last put the phone to her ear. It rang one, two, three, four times.

Ami's and her mother's voices chorused, "Hi, you've reached the Mizuno home. We're unable to take your call right now, so leave a message at the beep!"

The tone sounded.

"Hi, Mom. It's me. We're here. Um… I love you. I guess I'll talk to you later."

With the touch of a button, she ended the message.

That surge of resentment toward her mother's inability to even answer a simple phonecall resurfaced. She tossed her cellular phone onto the empty passenger's seat and jammed the key into the ignition.

*

I hope you all enjoyed this installment. Please, read and review! Much love to my readership, Kay


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I'm not cool enough to own stuff. Especially not Sailor Moon. I'm like Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath—I sell everything, even the daffodils.

_Destiny, Compromised_

**Chapter V**

Ami just drove. Secretly, she was grateful that Darien had added the GPS to their rental; otherwise, she probably would not have made her way back to the hotel. She took Harbor to Katella and drove down until she passed from Garden Grove into Anaheim. She saw the rising figures of the Disneyland Resort, with the sun just beginning to strike the attractions visible from the street. She sped onward for miles, though cars were now beginning to clutter the street. When she approached a freeway onramp, she seized the opportunity and sped onto it. As she merged onto it, she accelerated gladly. Her breath was coming in quicker each second.

Finally, she burst. "Maybe I don't want to do this anymore—maybe I don't want to _be _this anymore!" She growled in her pent-up frustration. "Maybe I don't want to be the person who is always dropping everything to come to the rescue! Who drops everything for me, hm!?" she demanded of the empty car, of the universe as a whole. For a split second, she glared at her mobile phone as it slid back and forth across the passenger's seat. "Who drops everything for me!" she shouted. "No one drops everything for me! No one does!"

Without her recognition, her eyes had begun to water. A few tears of rage spilled over and glided down her cheeks, landing on her chest. Like Serena had at the airport, Ami cried until she could hardly breathe, but there was no one there with comforting arms to encircle her. When the sobs became incontrollable, she found a safe place to pull over and seized a packet of tissues out of her purse. By the time she was done, she had used every single tissue. They were wadded up and strewn around her feet, in the cup-holders, and surrounding her cell-phone on the passenger's seat. While she calmed down, she gathered the sickly moist wads and threw them all out of the passenger's window onto the rocky shoulder. She thought to herself that it was perfectly justifiable—tissues and snot are both, after all, biodegradable.

*

Using the help of the rented GPS, she found her way back to the hotel. It was past eight o'clock in the morning when she returned to the hotel room. The snapping of the door did not appear to disturb Darien, as he was sprawled on his stomach, breathing evenly when Ami peeked into the sleeping area. His body was mostly masked by the blankets, but the scar on his shoulder blade was still visible. This time, it was simple enough to just walk away. She was too drained to ogle or be embarrassed.

She ambled into the bathroom to wash her face again, hoping to scrub away the residue of tearstains. At her bedside, she kicked off her shoes and changed into a pair of sweatpants as she eyed Darien to watch for signs of movement to be sure he would not see. Then she cleared off her bed and climbed beneath its covers. Her mind was, at last, a peaceful blank as she went to sleep.

*

It was early afternoon when she next opened her eyes. As she was sitting up in bed, Darien was just coming out of the bathroom, rubbing down his damp sable hair with a towel. He was fully dressed now, she noted with relief.

"Afternoon, Sleepy Head," he snickered.

She lifted one of her pillows, acting as though she would throw it at him. "Like you're one to talk," she grumbled.

"Hey," he said, waving one hand defensively, "I've been up for awhile now. I walked to the bakery across the street and got us doughnuts."

With a gesture, he presented the white bakery box sitting atop the dresser at the front of the room. She wrinkled her nose.

"Ugh! Doughnuts. I'm not Serena, you know," she said sharply before clambering out of bed and shuffling toward the dresser.

After he flung away the towel, he carefully lifted the lid on the box. She bent over the array of sweets, sniffing at them curiously.

He teased her as she selected one with a suspicious expression. "They're doughnuts, not fried tarantula legs."

"We're going to be doctors—we're _supposed _to know better," she retorted after nibbling at her chocolate-covered treat.

Darien tucked into his eagerly, unabashedly responding with his mouth full. "No, _you _are going to be a doctor. I am going to be a surgeon. There is a difference." Crumbs sprayed from his mouth.

"You are so gross!" she squealed, mockingly kicking at his shins.

He laughed heartily as he retreated from the reach of her wrath. Both of them munched in contented silence for a few minutes; Ami savored her chocolate-glazed doughnut while Darien wolfed down three by the time she was finished. As she was chewing her last bite, he asked,

"What are we doing today? Should we go to the beach?"

"The beach. Yes." She swallowed the last of it. "Let's do that."

Ami gathered the clothing she wanted out of her carry-on bag and locked herself in the bathroom while Darien changed in the next room. The weather was far too chill for bathing suits, she knew, so she donned a fresh pair of pants, a tee-shirt, and a sweater. After applying a few coats of mascara and pinning her loose locks up onto the back of her head, she emerged from the bathroom, ready to go.

*

She allowed Darien to drive this time. It was strange, but she could not help but watch the way he handled the wheel. He was a very alert and attentive driver, though never too jumpy or defensive. When the GPS alerted them that they were approaching Newport Beach, he let his window down a bit and pointedly inhaled the salty air. As his arm extended to roll the steering wheel into a left-hand turn, she noticed how the sleeve of his tee-shirt fit snugly around his bicep. She passed her fingertips over her forehead as if it would wipe the thought out of her mind. When they found parking, she was still trying to recover from it.

The seashore was not overcrowded that day. It was a weekday, after all, and the fall season was setting in here, too, though not as dramatically as it was in Tokyo. There were no browning leaves or indefinite goodbyes; only a chilled breeze coming to shore from the ocean that stretched out infinitely, the ocean that united the State and Japan.

The pair made their way down toward the incoming tide. Ami found it too difficult to try to wade through the sand in her flip-flops, so she removed them and hooked them over her fingers to carry. When the wind whipped into her face, it pulled a few hanks of her dark hair loose from their pins. Darien shoved his hands deep into his pockets and raised his shoulders as they walked. With a sideways glance, Ami noticed. Typical of a man not to bring a jacket when he should and then try to keep it from showing. She had a boyfriend, once, just for a brief time, that always looked like that when he was cold—hands shoveled into his pockets and his shoulders arched high, his jaw set so he wouldn't shiver in front of her. The memory made her smile. It was a long time ago.

"I'd offer you my sweater, but I don't suppose it would fit," she said quietly, her smile showing through her voice.

"What? Oh, I'm fine," he said, struggling to sound nonchalant as he shrugged his shoulders to get them to relax.

His lips were pressed into a thin line after he finished speaking; she could see his effort to keep them from trembling.

"Like hell you're fine," she teased, nudging him slightly as they walked just out of reach of the climbing tide.

"I just need to get _adjusted_," he insisted. Finally he succumbed to rubbing his goose-bumped arm with the opposite hand.

Shaking her head, she laughed under her breath.

"I'm serious! Look, maybe I should just get my blood pumping."

Before Ami could respond, he had taken off running down the coast.

"Darien!" she shouted. "No—wait! Darien, wait for me!"

But he paid her no mind. With a groan of exasperation, she launched after him.

*

Man, I LOVED writing this chapter. I hope you loved reading it almost as much. Please, feed me with reviews! I'm starved for them!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Okay, in my last chapter, I lied. I do own some cool things. Sailor Moon is just not one of those things.

_Destiny, Compromised_

**Chapter 6**

"Ugh, Americans never seem to get sushi quite right," Darien complained after their waitress had departed.

Ami raised her eyebrows at him. "Then why did you order it?" she asked quizzically.

With a shrug, he pinched a roll with his chopsticks and took a bite. When he withdrew what remained of the roll from his mouth, he stared at it closely. After swallowing, he said,

"Sushi should be so fresh, I want it to still be looking at me and pleading for mercy when I bite into it. This just does not cut it. I hoped that because we are on the Pacific Coast, it might be a bit better."

Kicking at him under the table, Ami sputtered, "That's disgusting!"

Darien finished the roll caught between his chopsticks and then lifted another from his plate. He extended it toward Ami and said in a high-pitched voice, "No, Ami, don't eat me! No! No! Pleeeease, nooo!"

As he continued to "plead," he brought the roll closer and closer to her mouth. She took a bite, and then he brought it back to his side to finish it off.

"See? Wasn't that satisfying?" he said through chewing.

Ami picked up half of the sandwich she had ordered, and before tucking in, she said flatly, "I prefer if my food _doesn't _talk to me, actually."

*

After dinner, they descended back down to the shore. The sun was beginning to set, and it threw an orange-red cast onto the low-hanging clouds that had gathered on the horizon. Darien had shoved his hands into his pockets again, but this time she didn't care much. Nothing was going to rip her away from this sight. Let Darien go back to the parking lot and huddle in the car if he was that cold.

They walked again for awhile; Ami's shoes again dangled from her fingers. At last, however, when she found a plot of sand that was free from withered seaweed and devoid of people playing Frisbee or tanning, she settled down into it, stretching out her legs so that the rising tide only just tickled the ends of her toes. As it retreated down the beach, she watched the little bubbles of sea form burst until there were none left. For a few minutes, Darien remained standing behind her in contemplative silence. Then he kicked off his sandals and slouched down beside her, leaning back like she was, but kept his feet a safe distance from the incoming surge.

While she kept her squinting eyes fixed on the sunset, Amy asked him, "Why do you suppose we want to become doctors?"

Darien gave a sidelong glance and then shrugged before turning back to nature's spectacle. "I don't know. I guess because it will come in handy, you know—later. When I'm a king. After leading troops into battle, I would like to be able to help them."

Shaking her head slowly, Ami said matter-of-factly, "That's not it." Darien raised his eyebrows but said nothing. "It's just that we are so accustomed to saving the world… we don't know how to do anything else."

*

When they arrived back at the hotel, Ami was eager to shower. Even without swimming in the ocean, she had managed to get sand _everywhere_. She retrieved all of her toiletries from her bag and a spare set of underwear and her pajamas. With her arms quite full, she trooped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. It was easily forty minutes before she emerged, and when she did, Darien was reclining shirtless on the floor between the two beds, watching television.

"Hey," he said, glancing up at her as she edged past him. "Enjoy your shower?"

"Mmm," she assented as she stuffed her dirty laundry into a clothes bag and put it into her suitcase, pointedly turning her back to him as she did so.

When she had zipped it up and shoved it aside, she sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at the boxy TV rather than at him. "What are you watching?"

"_Spiderman_. It's just starting. Do you want me to change it, or turn it off maybe…?"

"No, it's fine. I don't have any other exciting plans for the night," she said, waving him off.

He nodded at her in understanding and turned his attention back to the screen. She scooted further up on the bed, toward the headboard, and drew her knees up to her chest, interlocking her fingers in front of them. Despite the long nap from earlier, she was tired. The movie interested her little, so over time, she found herself sliding gradually beneath the blankets.

Her knees unbent, so that when she began drowsing, her head drooping forward, she snapped awake suddenly. The room had darkened because the television was now shut off. Her gaze shifted around the room until it adjusted. There was Darien, still on the floor, but he was sitting up now, his body angled toward her. She wasn't sure how long he had been looking at her, but he did not have the courtesy to look away when she caught him in the act.

"Falling asleep already?" he snickered.

"Is that—" She could not stifle an oncoming yawn. "Uh! A problem?"

With a chuckle, he shook his head and then clambered to his feet. He strolled into the bathroom; Ami could not keep herself from squinting through the dark to watch the fibrous muscles of his back tighten and release as he stretched.

When he disappeared, passing the bathroom doorway, she flattened herself on her back and clenched her jaw. Though her mind was still foggy, she made every effort to concentrate on the small pock-marks spread throughout the ceiling above her. This had little effect on the nameless sensation that was threatening to spread through her body. She rubbed her eyes hard with her fingertips and tried again, to no avail. A disturbance in the hallway shadows alerted her to Darien's approach. She saw his form moving toward his bed.

"Goodnight Ami," he called softly.

Her eyes searched the dark. To her everlasting embarrassment, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, dropped them to the floor, and climbed into bed in just his boxer shorts.

*

For heaven's sake, I know people out there are reading this—so just take a minute to review!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I wish I owned a really cool car. Heck, I would settle for a new phone. But as for Sailor Moon? Not mine and never will be.

_Destiny, Compromised_

**Chapter VII**

Ami found herself awake early. Sleep had not been much of an ally the night before; she awoke frequently and was met with nightmares while she dozed. It was just past six-thirty when she swung her legs off the side of the bed and sat up. For a few minutes she remained there, her forehead resting in her palms. By comparison, this last weekend should not have been so rough. What Ami had been through in her life since she met Serena, since she had discovered her hidden past, since she had taken up her mantle as Sailor Mercury—this bullshit was nothing in comparison to all that. And yet, as Ami's heart sunk into her stomach, making her feel riotously sick, she realized something: _she did not want to go to Johns Hopkins_. As quietly as possible, she dug through her carry-on tote to retrieve her used boarding pass, the one for the flight from Japan. For a minute, she fingered it absently. It would be costly, and she would have a lot of explaining to do, but she could go back.

But what is it, exactly, that she would explain? That she gave up? That she changed her mind, after years of hard work, dedication, and planning? And what else would she do if it wasn't _this_?

After carefully replacing the boarding pass in her bag, she traipsed into the bathroom to change her clothes. With a copy of the room-key in her pocket, she made her way out into the hotel lobby. The restaurant was only just opening, so Ami shuffled in and seated herself. She ordered an orange juice and picked up a copy of the _Orange County Register_ that was lying on another seat close by. The stories meant nothing to her, but it was something to read.

For a long time she sat there, perusing the paper and occasionally sipping her orange juice. Each of the ice cubes in it melted, creating a layer of orangey-water floating at the top. After some time, she heard from the lobby what sounded like Darien's voice, somewhat frantic.

"Have you seen Ms. Mizuno? Did she come out this way?" he was demanding of the front desk attendant.

Ami glanced over her shoulder. The attendant was pointing into the restaurant, which was separated from the lobby with only a thin glass screen. Darien thanked him and half-jogged in the dining area. An expression of relief washed over his face when he saw where Ami was seated. He settled into the other chair adjoined to her table. Without saying a word, she folded her newspaper and placed it on the table next to her sweating glass of orange-water. She took a napkin to mop up some of the condensation so she would not have to look directly at him.

"I—I was really worried. I didn't know where you'd gone," he stammered sheepishly. His hand was extending across the table toward hers.

"Darien." She cleared her throat. "You aren't my babysitter."

With a little sigh of embarrassment, he withdrew his hand, leaned back in the chair and mumbled, "I know."

There was an awkward silence that stretched on for a full minute.

"While we're here, do you want to have breakfast?" he asked, "Or did you already…?"

Shaking her head, she told him she hadn't eaten anything yet. When a waiter was in sight, Darien waved him over so they could order.

After they had finished their meal, Darien wiped his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat. This time, when his hand reached across the table to brush against her arm, he could not be deterred by her discomfiting cold demeanor.

"I would really like us to have a nice time today. This may be one of the only breaks we are afforded in a long while. If I did something to bother you, I'm sorry."

His heartfelt apology struck her hard with guilt. It was like that feeling she had had with Serena—that a stone was pressing down on her chest. Her eyes did not lift from her lap for a long moment.

"It's not you," she insisted. "I just have had so much on my mind. I'm really scared about," she swallowed and looked up at him, aligning her blue eyes with his. "All this."

His fingertips stroked her arm back and forth, which brought a spark to her heart—a most unexpected spark, the sort you always hope dies so it doesn't catch fire in the dried brush.

"I'm scared, too," he admitted.

But she wasn't sure if they were scared of the same thing.

*

Disneyland was the best—the very best. There was something catching in the atmosphere that made the two of them feel like little kids. They rode everything they could. Ami screamed at the top of her lungs while Darien "drove," on the Indiana Jones Adventure. Overpriced pizza and pasta became the most luxurious lunch, especially as it gave them five minutes' peace before they lined up for a second go on Space Mountain. That time around, Darien purchased the picture because, he said, Ami's expression of delight was too priceless. He promised to make a copy for her, although she hadn't asked. They fed each other cotton candy, although Ami piped up again about the both of them knowing better, and then they dallied through Fantasyland. When they came to the Matterhorn, and they were asked if they would ride together or separately, Darien without hesitation said, "Together," and when he was met with Ami's quizzical stare, he shrugged and insisted they would get through the line faster that way.

When they were buckled in, Ami fit snugly between his legs, he placed on broad hand on her thigh. With his other hand, he gripped one of the small silver handles. Leaning back into him and inhaling with anticipation for the ride to begin, she found he was wearing cologne.

It suddenly occurred to her. Her mind buzzed with the thought, the most obnoxious thought, but she could not wave it away.

_It was like they were on a date_.

Oh.

A hot blush crept from the base of her neck into her cheeks. Fortunately, he was behind her and could not see or feel the flush spreading across her face.

*

Send me reviews or I'll starve! And you will then never find out what happens next!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Doesn't this get boring after awhile? No, I don't own Sailor Moon. I'm not that cool.

_Destiny, Compromised_

**Chapter 8**

After the fireworks display which signaled the closing of the park, Ami and Darien were just one pair in the crowd drifting toward the exit. It was a long wait for a trolley to take them back to the parking lot. As they weaved in and out of the comers and the goers, Darien tried to keep his fingers in the small of her back—as though that would more effectively keep them from getting separated. When they at last reached their rental car in the parking lot, Darien tossed Ami the key. She smiled at him over the top of the vehicle before unlocking it for both of them. While they waited for the flood of exiting traffic to clear, they reflected with equal mirth upon the course of the day. As Ami drove, she could not keep herself from stealing glances at his face. She wanted to capture his expressions—his upturned eyebrows, his raucous laughter, the way he pinched either side of the bridge of his nose when he was trying to keep a straight face long enough to recount the story of when those two people tried to cut in line, but one of them slipped on something gooey on the pavement—

Oh, she kept saying to herself. It was a joyful sort of, "oh!" as in—"Oh, this is what it's like!" She kept thinking it over and over to prevent herself from thinking, _This is dangerous_.

When they reached their hotel room, Darien flipped on the light switch and then strolled into the living area and stretched luxuriantly.

"I need a shower," he declared as he stripped off his tee-shirt and tossed it onto his bed. Ami stopped at the end of the hallway and leaned against its wall. Biting her lip, she studied all the fine details of his muscular structure. He approached her, smiling at her mildly, as she stood by the bathroom, and nudged her a bit before continuing on and shutting the door behind him.

Now her mind was a blank. She couldn't concentrate. When the room-phone rang, she nearly leaped out of her skin. It rang once, and then twice, before she scurried over and answered it.

"Ami?!"

Serena's voice was frantic.

"Yes, Serena, it's me," Ami said after taking a few deep breaths to calm her pounding heart.

"Where's Darien?!" Serena demanded, still sounding panicked.

"Serena, relax." If only she could do so herself. "Darien only just got in the shower. Would you like to have me phone you when he is finished?"

Muffled sobs filled the other end of the line until Serena was able to manage, "Why hasn't he been calling me, Ami? Why can't he just—I know he said—but—oh-h-h!"

Ami lifted the cradle of the phone so she could pace more freely as she listened to Serena's choking cries. They did not last much longer.

"He needs to call me," she said as harshly as she could. "'Bye, Ami."

The dial tone sounded in Ami's ear before she could respond. With a sigh, she replaced the phone on the nightstand and hunkered down on the edge of her bed. She withdrew a comb from her tote and ran it through her loose black tresses. This ceased to occupy her mind after a few minutes, so she set the comb aside and stretched her legs out in front of her and stared at the carpet. When she heard the bathroom door swing open, it startled her out of a trance.

Darien emerged, his hips girt with a towel. His expression was fierce, but not in an angry way—it was intent. Ami lifted her chin to look at him. Their eyes met, and he paced over to the edge of her bed. Much to her surprise, he seated himself beside her.

"Hi," he said simply.

She could not help but snort. "Hi."

"She told you that I broke up with her, didn't she?"

Ami clicked the toes of her shoes together absently. "She mentioned it, I guess. She said you thought it best if you… _'see other people_,' for awhile."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him nod. He angled his body toward hers to get a full view of her face, her body language.

His voice deepened in its seriousness. "There has never been anyone I have loved as completely as I do Serena. But on the other hand," he said thoughtfully, gesturing with hands as if they were scales, "there has never been anyone I have resented as much as I do Serena."

Ami's eye twitched. "Resented?"

Darien stood quickly, and Ami shaded her eyes for a second, in case his towel fell off.

"Why do I have to live my life this way?!" His voice was raised, but he was not shouting at her. "Why do I have to make all of my choices based on the past and some set-in-stone future? That isn't even a choice!

"Do you know that she snores? Did you know that she has no ambition for a real career? She assumes we will all be magically transported to Crystal Tokyo one day, _la-dee-dah_, and everything will be perfect without much effort. Sometimes she talks about us getting pregnant _now_, as if that would speed things up. Do you know that she leaves out food until it spoils? She even uses my toothbrush sometimes when she stays over!"

He made a grimace of disgust. When he opened his mouth as if to go on, he shut it again just as quickly. The muscles in his jaw were tight, but then he allowed his shoulders to slump, and all of the tension was released.

"Darien," Ami said softly, "I really do know."

A large sigh escaped his lips. He rejoined her on the edge of the bed.

"I know you do. I know. That's why…" His rough fingertips stroked the side of her face. She felt the whole of her body tense in response.

But then he tangled his fingers in the smooth hair at the back of her head, gently compelling her toward him. He craned his neck downward so that their foreheads were pressed together. His breath washed hotly across her face, smelling of mouthwash.

"You're so brilliant, Ami. You're so driven. We…" He allowed his voice to trail off, and he just continued to breathe on her.

Something in her brain hissed—_Don't say that word. Not 'we.' Never 'we.'_

His other hand curved around her waist. Something primeval awoke in her then. Without even willing it, she was kicking her shoes off.

With his hand still at the back of her head for guidance, he tilted her face upward. Their eyes were both wide open.

"It could be so…" he whispered, his lips so close to hers that it tickled her when he said it.

She was about to moan in assent, but he covered his mouth with hers before she could make a sound. The fingers curled around her hips then began fumbling to push her shirt upward. Before she knew it, her legs had been slung up onto the bed. Dizziness engulfed her. She clutched her hair, trying to get her bearings. With his nose he pushed her chin back so he could access her throat—cover it with kisses. Cheap terrycloth grated against the skin of her legs until the towel was pushed onto the floor.

"Oh!" she cried aloud. _So this is what it's like_, she cried internally.

And in another moment she was having sex with her best friend's destiny.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the major names, characters, or anything else that's cool that I am using. I think since you have made it to Chapter 9, you should have figured that out already.

_Destiny, Compromised_

_**Chapter IX**_

Darien pressed his face hard into one of the spare pillows as he came, making a muffled "_Mmmmmph_," sound while his entire body shuddered. Ami threw her head back and reached for the knotted mass of scar tissue on his shoulder blade, holding it between her fingers for several long seconds before her fingertips proceeded down the length of his back. After a few minutes, he rolled over onto his stomach to take his weight off her. Instinctually she pulled the sheet up to her chest. His body was propped up on his elbows while his palms scrubbed his face. Between his fingers Ami noticed a little smile playing on his lips. She didn't know quite what she was supposed to do or say at that point—should she thank him?

Darien seized a pillow and wrapped his arm around it, settling his head deep into its feathered softness. While she rolled onto her left side, she murmured,

"Sleeping on your stomach is bad for your back."

The smile that was there already enlarged, but it was halfway obscured, as his face was smashed into the pillow. "I'll let you know when I care."

He was blinking profusely, with it lasting longer each time than the last. "What time is our flight tomorrow?" he asked before breaking into a wide yawn.

"Twelve-thirty," she answered as she pulled the sheet up over her shoulder and nestled closer to him.

"Plenty of time," he muttered, closing his eyes now without reopening them.

"For what?" she whispered.

He did not answer then, but she found out precisely what he meant some four hours later, when he awoke with his desire stirring. They made love again, more frantically than the first time, and returned to sleep. She wasn't sure if she had _ever_ slept so peacefully.

By midmorning, the sun was behind the window, warming her back. Her eyes opened slowly. From her position on the bed, she could see the nightstand clock reading eight twenty-two a.m. It was definitely time to get up. Before Darien could begin rousing, she gathered up a fresh change of clothes and hurried into the bathroom. She dumped them onto the granite countertop and then whipped back toward the door to slide the lock into place. Before stepping into the shower, she took time to brush her teeth thoroughly, as she had not had the opportunity to do so the previous night.

The long, hot shower was most comforting, especially because the running water was too loud for her to distinguish the sound of Darien trying to open the door. She took her time rubbing her hair dry with a fresh towel. When he began knocking, she pointedly ignored it. A few coats of mascara and a quick swipe of eye-shadow later, she opened the door. He had had the patience to wait. Like a model out of a perfume ad in a magazine, he was leaning back against the wall, still shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned. She hadn't noticed before how the structure of his hips accented the perfect V-shape his abdomen made. It was like an arrow pointing down. The thought made her color rise dramatically.

"Why did you lock the door?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

She looked down, squinting hard at spots where toenail polish had been chipped away on her big toe; she had gotten a pedicure with Raye and Lita a few days before her departure.

"I—I think we made a mistake," she confessed.

"What are you talking about?"

From her peripheral vision, she saw him standing up straight and taking a step toward her. His hand found its way to the back of her neck. At his touch, she could not help but gaze up into his face, her eyes desperately searching for answers, for some instruction on what the next step was. She wanted a solution—how to undo what was done. As his lips grazed her forehead, she felt a sharp pain wrench her heart in two.

"Don't say that," he urged her, nuzzling her ear with the tip of his nose. "Don't say that—don't ever say that."

Her hands went up defensively and flattened against his chest. Both of them froze in that moment until Ami was collected enough to say coldly,

"We have a plane to catch."

*

Darien took responsibility for driving to the airport and then returned the rental upon their arrival. The two of them did converse, but they kept all topics on a surface level—what they expected the school to be like, their impressions of their roommates based on instant-messaging conversations, how they each were arranging to finance their education… This was, in reality, how Ami imagined their interactions would be for the whole of the trip. But when she drew one of her feet onto her seat in the terminal, jamming her heel between her legs, she was painfully reminded of just how poorly she had surmised what this trip would be like.

When it came time to board, they both ceased speaking altogether. Ami glanced down at her boarding pass. Los Angeles to Chicago. Chicago to Baltimore. The BWI Airport to her new apartment. The new apartment to the university. The university to the hospital. The hospital to graduation. Graduation to packing up the apartment. And then to Chicago to Los Angeles to Tokyo to home. All this in only a few years. And what are a few years, after all, to someone who knows they are going to live to see the reign of the king and queen of Crystal Tokyo?

On the flight from Chicago to Baltimore, Darien fell asleep. His hands went slack at his sides, with the very tip of his pinky just touching Ami's thigh. It was too much of a temptation; she lifted it, turned it over so his palm was open and facing up. She never believed much in Raye's fortune-telling, though she would never say so to anyone else in the group, but she wondered if there was something in the lines of his hands that fixed even more concretely the future Darien had with Serena.

For a long time, she just traced the lines in his palm over and over again. When his breathing was no longer rhythmic and even but his eyes remained shut, she knew he was simply enjoying the sensation. So she stopped to see his reaction. One eyelid lifted, and then the other. His stare was so penetrating that she had to catch her breath. Simultaneously they leaned in toward each other and kissed.

In less than a moment, they were making out like desperate teenagers. It was just over an hour before they were scheduled to touch down in Baltimore, and they spent almost the whole of that time locked together at the mouth. Had they been aware at all of their surroundings, they would have noticed the young woman seated on the aisle shifting uncomfortably away from them--at least as much as she could in the narrow seat--and then the flight attendant making a disgusted face as he came around to collect the passengers' waste. The captain's announcement of their final descent failed to interrupt; it wasn't until they actually touched down that they were jarred apart by the sheer force of the impact. Then, with all the other passengers, they gathered their belongings and filed off the plane.

As in Los Angeles, they had to wait at the carousels to collect their checked baggage. While they waited, Darien asked,

"Are your roommates picking you up here, or what? How are you getting to your apartment?"

Ami lifted her shoulder and then let it fall in a nonchalant shrug and kept her eyes fixed on the rotating carousel. "I was just planning on taking a cab."

"Oh… me, too." His deep blue eyes were probing her expression, gauging her body language.

"You're living in the on-campus housing for med students, aren't you?" she checked, twisting her body toward him.

He nodded at her, smiling ever so slightly. At seeing his expression, she couldn't keep her lips from curving upward.

"We can catch a cab together. From what I understand, my apartment is only a few blocks from there."

Darien raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure that would be all right?"

"Of course," she answered, her eyes flickering back to the carousel in hopes of spotting their suitcases.

But he was too quick—he saw the pair of them and whisked them off the squealing track of the carousel. Jerking his chin toward the sliding doors, he said, "Let's go catch that cab."

She smiled at her feet and rearranged both her purse and her carry-on tote and then shuffled out the doors after him. They both stopped at the curb, and Ami threw out her hand to hail a taxi as a string of them drove by. After securing their suitcases in the trunk with the cabbie's assistance, they slid in close to each other. Darien drew out a slip of paper from a pouch on his laptop case and issued directions to the driver from it. As they drove through the darkened city, Ami propped her chin up on her fist and watched the lights rush by in colored blurs. Distantly she sensed his hand resting on her leg, but other than that, their interaction was limited until the cab pulled up in front of the on-campus housing reserved for med students.

Before he stepped out to collect his luggage, Darien leaned in and brushed his lips over Ami's. A shadow of a smile passed over her face as she waved him when he pulled away. The taxi driver had jumped out to retrieve Darien's suitcase from the trunk. When he returned, he buckled his seatbelt in a split second and glanced into his rearview mirror, aligning his eyes with Ami's.

"So, was that your boyfriend?" he smirked.

"Um." Ami laughed through her nose. "I don't really know actually."

The cabbie laughed. "College kids these days! When I was in college, people either were together or weren't together. And now there's all this hooking up and—what do you call it?—friends with benefits… I just don't get it."

Without considering what she was about to say, Ami asked coldly, "For someone who knows so much about what college was like, why are you driving a cab?"

When she realized what she said, she chewed her lip as her color began rising from the base of her neck. But to her relief, he just chuckled heartily.

"Because my girl and me—we were really _together_. I got 'er pregnant."

Ami leaned forward with interest. "What did you do?"

"I married her o' course. I had to drop out to support us. Now we got three beautiful kids. Wanna see?"

She saw his head rising as his hand reached down to pull his wallet out of his back pocket.

"Um, actually, that's okay. I should really just get to my apartment."

*

Sorry it took me awhile to finish up this chapter. Please, feed my hunger for reviews! More to come soon!


	10. Chapter 10

Destiny, Compromised

**Chapter 10**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything much—just a little condo in the 'burbs—and definitely not Sailor Moon.

Ami slithered away from the toilets and managed to grasp the knobs of the bathtub. It took her a moment, but she managed to adjust the stream to the right temperature and stopped the drain. Then she slumped against the side of the tub, oblivious to all but the apparent roaring of the tub and its chilly side pressing against the skin of her lower back, where her black tee-shirt had ridden up. Curling her fingers around the nape of her neck, she rolled her head around in circles, trying to relax, but she couldn't—not with the nausea curdling the contents of her stomach. Above the sound of the water thundering into the tub, she heard pounding on the bathroom door.

"Ami? Ami! Aren't you ready yet?! Come on, it's getting late!"

She crawled over to the door and slid the lock out of its place. Then she maneuvered out of the way so she could pull the door open from her position on the floor. One of her roommates—Heather, a graduate student in Psychology—towered over her, with her arms folded and her ultra-glossed lips pursed.

"I don't think I'm going," Ami croaked as she tilted her head back and leaned against the cabinet under the sink.

Heather crouched down. Even the cheap bathroom lights caught the sequins on her halter top. She laid the backs of her fingers across Ami's cheek. "Oh my gosh, what's the matter with you?" she huffed. "You're all clammy and pale!"

"I'm sick—really sick. I can't go out tonight."

The bathroom door gradually finished swinging open, which revealed Ami's other roommates—Kendra and Cherie—flanking Heather's sides. When they saw Ami hunched over on the bathroom floor, they rushed forward, their faces contorting with concern.

"Ami, what's wrong?" Cherie said over the babble of the filling bath.

Shaking her head, Ami answered, "I think I just got a stomach bug or something. I'm just going to rest tonight. Don't worry." But with that, she writhed in pain and scuttled over to the toilet bowl. Its lid was already lifted. She heaved once before she vomited into it. None of the other girls were enrolled in medical school, so all of them immediately cringed away. Even Heather shot back onto her heels, wobbling on their narrow points.

As she hefted her purse onto her shoulder, Cherie said weakly, "Well, feel better."

Heather turned toward the front door, which was visible from the threshold of the bathroom, and then turned back. "Wait, what about that guy—the one that was supposed to meet you at the club?"

Bracing herself against the toilet, Ami twisted her head a little to look up at her roomies. "Oh, Zach? Bring me my phone, and I'll call him. He'll know not to expect me."

In a flash, Cherie slipped into Ami's room and back out, handing Ami's little mobile phone over to Heather. Heather relayed it into Ami's cold, sweaty palm. Murmuring her thanks, she began dialing right away. The three girls shuffled collectively toward the front door to the apartment, each waving to Ami awkwardly before they slipped out as quickly as though they feared she might call them back.

But she didn't. Instead, she stood up and gripped the edge of the counter while another wave of nausea passed. Once it had, she turned off the running bath water and then hit "call" on her cellular phone.

Zach was a boy that frequented a local café where Ami always studied. She had gone there once during her first week after moving in while she was in search of a great sandwich and a cup of tea—somewhere that _wasn't _Starbucks. So, she perused the neighborhood in search of such a place and founded it only two blocks from her apartment complex. It was roomy and quiet, with little circular tables clustered at the back. Though there was live music on the weekends—which made is busy—it was an excellent place to study on weekdays and most evenings, so it soon became Ami's favorite haunt.

Zach stopped by there at about the same time Ami did each Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, so it wasn't long before the two began conversing. But when Zach asked her out for the first time, he got fidgety and even went slightly pink in the cheeks. He had learned how to say, "Will you go out with me?" in Japanese, especially for her, even though she could understand the question perfectly well in English.

Tonight would have been their fourth date officially. As the phone rang in her ear, Ami actually felt very sorry having to let him down. Nothing terribly exciting had happened so far, but her roommates—from whom she generally held nothing back—continually assured her that tonight would be positively definitive. With a wink and a nudge, Cherie even mentioned that should Ami want to bring him home, they would all continue clubbing or go to a bar until they received a green light from her to come home.

Ami laughed it off then, but when she heard Zach's voice on the other end, saying, "Hello?" she would have given almost anything for that to be the end scenario for her evening. Since Darien, she had hardly felt like a human being around the opposite sex.

She cleared her throat and caught the bitter taste of bile on her tongue as she did so. "Zach, it's me, Ami."

"Hey!" he said excitedly.

Before he could say anything more, she breathed and blurted out, "Listen, about tonight—I can't make it. I think I have the stomach flu or something. I'm really sick."

"Oh." Just that single word conveyed just how heartily disappointed he felt. She may as well have said she never wanted to see him again. "Okay, I understand." He didn't. "I'll see you another time then?"

"Yeah, totally." Ami's hollow voice didn't convince herself, so she added, "I'm sure I'll be feeling better by next weekend."

Feeling encouraged, Zach chuckled a little. "Okay. Well, get better soon. I'll call you."

"Okay. Thanks for understanding. 'Bye." She hung up and passed her hand over her face. After sighing, she scrolled through her contacts for a second before pressing the green button on her phone again.


	11. Chapter 11

Destiny, Compromised

**Chapter 11**

Disclaimer: Somebody remind me why I still write one of these… oh, yeah—so I don't get sued. I am not making any profit from that which I do not own—namely, Sailor Moon, etc. etc. etc.

P.S. I've never been to Baltimore and I don't know anything about the area surrounding Johns Hopkins, so give me a break on the geography front please. =) Thank you!

The phone only rang twice before he answered. His voice made all her insides go cold, despite its familiarity.

"Darien, it's me." Ami drummed her fingers on the countertop just to give herself something else to focus on.

"I know," he said quietly, "what's up?"

He sounded so nonchalant—so nonchalant, she wanted to rip his throat out through the phone. They hadn't seen each other since they arrived over two months ago. Darien had called twice or maybe three times, but Ami pointedly reached over to her phone each time and silenced the calls, convincing herself she was too busy to talk. Or have "the talk," as she was sure that was Darien's intent.

Ami scratched the back of her head and then tucked a stray chunk of black hair behind her ear. "Look, can you meet me somewhere?"

Without asking why, he automatically replied, "Yeah—where? When?"

She leaned heavily against the bathroom counter as she pulled a sock off first one foot and then the other. "There's a café on Ninth. Do you know it? It's across from the Hubbub Bar."

He seemed to consider a moment with a pronounced "hmmm," before saying, "Yes, I know it."

"There—in an hour." Her voice sounded so authoritative, even demanding, so she added, "Is that all right?"

With a smile in his voice, he answered, "Absolutely. I'll be there."

"Thanks. 'Bye."

After she had ended the call, she stripped down, brushed her teeth, and lowered herself into the tub. The water was still hot, but she could hardly take any enjoyment in it. The nausea rose again as she tried to rehearse the conversation she was about to have. Try as she might, however, there was no perfect set of words for this. Once her bath ended, she managed to keep from vomiting while she got dressed, put in a pair of earrings, and dusted her face with some powder—to give it some color. After a few swipes with the mascara wand, she shrugged into a thick new sweater and draped a scarf around her neck before she locked up the apartment and started off.

It was early November, and most of the leaves had fallen by now. A few of them skittered along the sidewalk with the light breeze that kicked up behind her. Because it was a Saturday night, the major street she turned down was lined with cars. As she paced toward the café, she heard a few aggressive honks as drivers fought over the best parking spaces closest to the Hubbub and another bar close by. Once or twice, Ami saw a few middle fingers flashing, accompanied by choice expletives. It was moment like those that made her grateful she was within walking distance of her favorite areas.

Just as she was approaching from one end, she saw Darien's formidable figure approaching from the other end of the street. As the door to the café was swinging open, she caught hold of it and held it for him. He grinned at her and stepped inside while she shuffled in after him. They stepped aside simultaneously, and then Darien leaned down to kiss Ami's cheek. As he did so, he murmured, "I'm glad you called."

She wanted to respond, "I'm glad, too," but she wasn't. So she did not respond; instead, she shoved her hands deep into her pockets and glanced around. In one of the far corners, a musician was sitting on a tall stool, playing an acoustic guitar. Many of the small tables had been dragged toward that corner, but there were still a few more vacant ones closer to the front of the building. The walls were painted an outdated pale yellow, but the tables and floor tiles were obviously more contemporary.

Darien cupped her elbow and gestured to the open seating. "Why don't you sit down while I get us some drinks? My treat."

"Um... sure," she said with a nod.

"Would you like anything else?" he asked over his shoulder as he moved to get in line.

Normally she would have said nothing, but without taking time to think about it, she said, "A cookie!"

Now that she was making for the empty tables, she was too far to hear a reply without him shouting, so he merely raised his eyebrows at her. She paced backward for a few steps so she could shrug and grin in his direction. Then she made her way to an unoccupied table—as far from any of the others as possible. With the back of her hand she swiped aside a few loose grains of sugar that had spilled on the tabletop and then slouched into a chair. The table was very hard plastic, designed to imitate the look of granite. Though the tables all looked new, a few of them had seen some wear and tear. This particular table had some spidery-thin cracks etched into its top, and these she traced with her fingernail for a few minutes.

When she looked up again, she saw two things that would have been fine by themselves but dangerous together: both Darien and Zach were approaching her table from two different angles. She sucked in a deep breath as she tried to make eye contact with Darien and wave him away, but it was too late. He was smiling serenely as he placed two cups on the table, followed by a thick chocolate chip cookie wrapped in a napkin. Zach, who had shock written all over his face, had to glance around Darien to resume his eye contact with Ami.

_Oh no—not this—not now_, Ami groaned within herself. _Why, why, why, why!?_ But there was no answer.

Zach sidestepped Darien as Darien settled down in the seat beside Ami and looked over the length of the table at her. "Ami—what…? I came down here when you cancelled on me, but… I mean, I thought you were sick?"

Ami said impatiently, "I _am_." Zach looked skeptical. His expression gradually even changed to one of anger as Darien tilted his head back to look at Zach. "Look, Zach, it isn't what you think. I promise." It wasn't. Zach was too simple and sweet to guess why Ami had called Darien down there.

The cheap lights inside the café seemed to glisten on Zach's high cheekbone. "Whatever, Ami," he said harshly and turned on his heel.

Ami covered her face with her hands for a second as Darien curved his arm around her shoulders. "Who was that?" he asked close to her ear.

Waving off his arm, Ami muttered, "Just this guy I've been seeing." Darien raised his eyebrows, obviously looking a little displeased. "Well, it isn't anything serious," she added defensively. "And do not try to tell me you haven't been on a single date since we got here."

"Actually…" He paused and cleared his throat. "I haven't."

Ami felt her heart sink. This declaration made her feel much worse. She pulled her cup of tea toward her and pried off its white plastic lid so that she could pour in a few sugar packets that Darien had brought from the condiment table. She stirred it heartily and then took a sip without replacing the lid. Before he dealt with his tea, Darien scooted his chair closer to hers. Its black painted legs made scraping sounds that echoed in their little corner of the café.

"I'm really glad you called," he purred, stroking the back of her hand lightly.

She almost choked on her tea. Spluttering and wiping her lips with a napkin, she glanced over at him. After taking a deep breath, she said, "You might not be when you find out why I did."

His eyebrows twitched in bewilderment. For a minute Ami scratched the side of her neck and listened to the guitar player over the chatter of café patrons. He was looking at her intently, oblivious to all else. The nausea seemed to resurface just as she was preparing to speak, but that was to be expected. Tracing the mouth of the paper cup that held her sweet tea, she kept her eyes focused on its brownish depths as she said, "Darien, I'm pregnant."


	12. Chapter 12

Destiny, Compromised

**Chapter 12**

Disclaimer: No ownage of the Sailor Moonage.

When Ami glanced up from her steaming cup of tea, Darien's face seemed utterly unperturbed. He just kept his eyes fixed on her, with a small smile playing on his lips. A tear brimmed over Ami's eyelid and slid down the length of her cheek when Darien reached over and brushed it aside with the pad of his thumb.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, knowing she had muttered her astonishing news.

He nodded silently, allowing his hand to continue cupping her powdered cheek. "What are you going to do?" he finally asked.

"What do you mean?" she retorted.

"I mean—you're not going to get an abortion, are you?" He frowned.

"Why would I arrange to tell you this if I were going to just end the pregnancy?"

"I don't know."

With the tips of his fingers he stroked the side of her face before he grinned and shook his head.

"What?" she demanded angrily. "What is the matter with you?! I'm _pregnant_!"

"Don't you see?!" he laughed. He scooted his chair even closer; the scraping sounds came even louder across the floor. "This is it! We can be together—we can make a life together!"

She pulled away, shoving his hand down. He dropped it onto the table, but it stayed close to hers, which was still flattened on the plastic table surface. "What are you talking about?"

"Ami," he said more seriously, grasping her hand. She did not snatch it away. "I want to do the right thing—the responsible thing." Smiling again, he squeezed her fingers.

Her eyes were wide and uncomprehending. "I don't understand. What is 'the right thing'?"

His smile once again transformed into an outright grin. "I want to marry you. We could have a life together—we could raise _our baby _together. We could forge our own destiny."

"Get married?" she repeated dumbly. He nodded.

For a long moment everything in her ears was buzzing. Even the clear sound of the live guitar was all hazy to her. She surveyed the café, expecting to clear her head as it swung back and forth. Darien's gaze was fixed on her, but she could not bring herself to look at him.

"Darien, you don't even know me," she said flatly.

With his thumb and forefinger he took her chin and directed her face toward his. "I don't know you? I know you are painfully shy, even after someone takes the time to get to know you—I know that you pretend that your mom is your hero, when you would have much rather had her home with you your whole life than out there saving people. I know that you are only becoming a doctor to win her approval and because you feel as though you are in too deep to back out. I know that you paint watercolors and then auction them off for children's charities. I know that you take things quietly without complaining. I know that it bothers you when our friends blow off your incredible knowledge and abilities because they find all your random knowledge useless or boring. I know that you always dump at least four sugar packets into your tea because you don't like the taste of tea unless it's very sweet. I know you love music, and wished you had more time to go to local concerts. If it weren't so crowded, you would hang out at this place every weekend. I know that you sometimes hole up in your room for hours to read new novels, and you get very disgruntled if you're ever disturbed. I know you, Ami. And I know you know me."

Ami grasped his hand and turned it over so the palm was facing the ceiling. She traced the lines there and then tickled his fingers. "I had a crush on you for a long time."

"…And now that crush has turned to love," he said matter-of-factly.

"I didn't say that," she said through gritted teeth as she reached for her tea again, this time pairing it with the cookie.

"You didn't have to," he whispered.

Sighing, she leaned against him. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and he tilted his head so that the side of it was resting against the crown of her head. When she reached for her tea, he straightened up but kept his arm wrapped around her. Absently she grasped the string on the teabag and dunked the bag a few times before setting it aside on a napkin. She tore open one more sugar packet and dumped it in. Gently she swirled the contents of the cup, trying to mix it evenly, and then took a tentative sip.

Clearing his throat to ease the tension of the silence between them, Darien reached for his tea. There was only one small brown packet of sugar remaining, but this he left on the tabletop in case Ami decided her tea wasn't sweet enough. He arched his back to stretch his broad chest. It suddenly made him feel the more manly, knowing that Ami was carrying his baby. He didn't know if it had anything to do with God or spirits or evolutionary instinct, but recognizing that in some way, his line would carry on made him feel strong. Like he could take on the world. After finishing his stretch, he drained his plain tea in a draught.

Unexpectedly, Ami nudged him. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," he responded.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "We had fun together, didn't we—that weekend when _it _happened?"

While she munched her cookie, he nodded. "Yeah. We had fun. It was almost like—like we were an ordinary couple. Going out on dates." He tilted his head as he remembered.

Fingering the rim of her empty cup, Ami released a forlorn breath. "If we didn't know the future, the past wouldn't matter so much. You can always let go of the past."

He stood up and gathered the rubbish from off the table, including the insulated cardboard cup she was fiddling with. Shuffling over to the trashcan, he dumped the contents inside and returned to the table where Ami was once again tracing the small cracks with the tip of her fingernail.

Darien grasped the back of her chair and bent over her shoulder. "Let's try a new idea—let's focus on the present," he suggested.

Sadly she smiled before she eased out of the chair. The nausea had definitely eased, and she was hungry. As she stood up, she murmured, "Come back to my apartment with me."

With the faintest nod, he gave his assent. They made a subtle exit from the café and walked without speaking down the length of the block toward Ami's apartment. As they mounted the stairs toward her floor, Darien automatically placed his hand in the small of her back, as though he would protect her from falling and injuring herself. Feeling his touch, she glanced over her shoulder at him in surprise, though she did not pull away. In fact, she felt her heart begin to pound a little harder than it was already doing.

When they reached her apartment, she fumbled with the key for a few seconds before jamming it in the lock. They filed inside, and Ami flipped on the lights. They both removed their shoes and placed them beside the door before she hurried into the kitchen. This apartment's kitchen was separated from the living area by a white wrap-around bar, which Darien approached and folded his arms over it as she reached inside the cupboard. When she turned around again, she was holding the neck of a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" she asked, placing both on the countertop.

"Certainly," he replied, "but what about you?"

"Pregnant," she answered flatly.

"Right."

Carefully she poured out his glass and handed it to him by the stem. He accepted gratefully and raised the glass to her before taking a sip. After smiling at him, she stood on her tiptoes to rummage through the clutter on top of the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" he chuckled.

"I'm looking for the saltine crackers—I know they're up here somewhere," she groaned as she tried to leap.

Shaking his head, Darien said, "Oh, you and Serena both—you are so short, you can never get to anything!"

He set down his glass and started striding toward her. She turned around quickly and waved her hand. "No, no—it's fine! Drink your wine."

Cocking his head, he watched her drag over a step stool. As she stepped up and found the crackers—at the very back, mind you—he sniffed the wine. It was cheap, but satisfying enough on a jarring night like this. Both Ami's sweater and shirt had been so pulled by her reaching that it revealed a triangular patch of skin, including part of her hip. The breath stuck in his throat. He remembered what it was like to hold that hip as he—

He shook his head violently. When his vision stopped blurring, he saw Ami standing by the sink, munching crackers. The look of sheer relief on her face was almost comical. Darien leaned over the bar, standing in between the stools there, and continued sipping his wine.

"So, tell me about this _Zach_," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Brushing away a few crumbs, she said thoughtfully, "Well… we have gone out on a few dates, but we are both pretty shy. He hasn't kissed me yet. We have held hands, though, if that counts for something."

"Hm," Darien said noncommittally, though he sounded irritated.

When he had done with the wine, she took the glass and set it in the sink before packing away the crackers. Before she could do anything else, he strolled around the edge of the bar and joined her beside the sink. After slipping his arms around her waist, he bowed his head to kiss her neck.

"Don't start that," she protested, though she did not pull away.

His fingertips crept underneath the hem of her sweater and in a flash he had swept it off her and dropped it atop the kitchen mat.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said against her ear. "We already made a baby together."

She tilted her head back to look into his face. Then she kissed him willingly, arousing him even more. Slowly she drew him to her bedroom, clicking the lock shut after them—just in case. Darien undressed her slowly, as if he feared damaging her or their precious baby growing within. They made love with the same slow fervor in a desperate hope that they could slow the pace of time, which seemed to be launching them mercilessly into the future with every passing moment.

*

I love getting your reviews—thank you so much to my readers, whether you agree or disagree with what's going on. Remember—it's just a story for fun! I am not anti-SerenaxDarien in any way. Please let me know how YOU would like the story to end because I want to know your opinions. Thanks again. Please review!


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